Stuck!
by Creecree
Summary: Auror Draco has to save Harry Potter from his broom.


**NOTICES** The Harry Potter empire belongs to JK Rowling. This is merely a work of imaginative fiction based on the series. This contains M/M, D/H. Read at own discretion.

**Stuck!**

_Auror Department offices:_

'What is this place?'

That snit Kingsley didn't even look up from his scribbling, the quill twitching back and forth furiously, scratch-scratching onto the parchment. Draco had an intense urge to reach over the table and snap the bloody feather in his hands, and imagined throwing the pieces flourishingly into Kingsley's face in a moment of indignant pique, followed by a dramatic exit of flung chairs and slammed doors. But like many things in Draco's life, it was all, not to be. Kingsley would probably not even bother to interpret all the flinging and stomping. He will sigh, then pull out his extra quill from the last drawer on the left side of his table and continue writing. The man was so predictable it was depressing. Draco rolled his eyes and asked again.

'Kings, whats with the Muggle address?'

He was still holding the memo in front of Kingsley's face, waving it a bit trying to get _some_ reaction from his boss.

'Its your assignment,'

'My ass-'

'And don't call me Kings,'

'Whatever. You can't put me on assignment! I just got back from that Barrells fraud case and I thought I'll be on desk for a while!'

'Its your job,'

'I'm _tired_!'

They both twitched at that, Kingsley finally looking up from his must-be-epic document to look at Draco for the first time since he entered the room, his left eyebrow raised in a mocking _Excuse me?_. Draco cleared his throat and scratched his nose, his brain scrambling for something to say.

'I meant that I'm tired- tired of- '

' - staying on desk?'

'Uh- '

' - what with Wizard Flu season and all that's got the department on shortage of on-field Aurors?'

'Uh. Mmm- Yes,'

'Wonderful. You best be on your way then,'

And with that Draco felt himself steered out of the room with Kingsley's firm grip on his elbow, his mind blank and his eyes unblinking, feeling, as he often does whenever he leaves Kingsley's office, oddly chastised, like a found-out naughty school boy who ought to wring his hands together, bite the corner of his bottom lip and cry. As soon as he was out of the room, he broke out of his strange reverie and spun around just in time to catch the last corner of Kingsley's robes disappear behind the closing door. _Arse_, Draco cursed in his head as he put on his best scowl and went in search for the nearest apparition point to 24 Stethsons Street.

_On location:_

'Are you Mr Potter's friend?'

Draco paused, his hand mid-knock, immobile in front of number 24. He turned to look at the little boy, who had his hands clutched on the fence, standing on the other side.

'Mr Potter?'

'Yes. The nice man who lives there,'

'Nice man?'

Draco felt like slapping himself for talking in questions. To _children_, no less. He really needed that break.

'Yes. He bakes,'

Draco blinked. This was Potter's _house_, and what in _hell_- Potter _bakes_?

'Sir?'

'Whatever number 23. Go back to your box,'

'_You're_ not a nice man. And your hair is too pretty, like a girl's!'

Draco sneered at the boy who stuck out his tongue at him, before huffing his way towards a group of brown-haired children playing nearby. Draco went back to knocking the door, his head in utter confusion and bewilderment now. What would Potter need Auror assistance for? In a _Muggle_ neigbourhood. _Strange_, he mused.

'Uh. Who is it?'

The voice replied, sounding very far away.

'Malfoy!' Draco called back.

There were some crashing noises, glass, and what sounded like a lot of solid things toppling from a high place, and then silence. Draco stood at the door, alarmed. _What the_- he rushed to the nearest window and saw a heap of table legs, what looked like a shelf, and tons and tons of books, one of them open and screaming a list of potion ingredients _FROG EYES, TONGUE OF A_- and an arm holding a wand, the hand slightly flattened by the thick monstrosity of _The Entire(Yes, Entire!) History of Broom Flying_. His eyes widened and with no further thought, he punched the glass window in a bout of unexplainable heroic impulse. _That bloody HURTS_, Draco bellowed, all mentally of course, because screaming out loud in abject pain would just be wimpy and lame, especially for the dashing Auror Draco Malfoy. As he plucked out a shard stuck in his thumb, _oh_ _yeah, feeling the hero now_, he heard a strangled unlocking charm and the door thankfully swung open with a click.

He ran to the door, and walked in in time to see Potter's head emerge amidst the mountain of books.

'Potter?'

'Oh. Hey,'

'Potter, what-'

Draco didn't even know where to begin. He started by kicking the yelling Potions book close.

'Huh, they sent you,'

'Mm yeah,' Draco answered distractedly, kicking the book away, then, 'Potter, you okay?'

'Huh?'

'I know you conked your head Potter but it doesn't give you an excuse to be stupider than usual,'

Potter grinned at that and replied with a breezy ,'Oh I'm fine,'

'Well, then why did you call for the Aurors?'

Even being in the same room as the git had Draco feeling testy and annoyed.

'Oh yeah, that. I'm stuck. As in, I'm stuck- to- to something. And I don't know how to unstick myself,'

'You're stuck? You're on the floor- what you're stuck to your carpet or something?'

'Don't be stupid. I'm stuck to a, well, a broom, actually,'

'You're stuck, to a broom,'

Potter bit his lip in affirmative. Draco fought an urge to laugh.

'Wh-where is it stuck at exactly Potter?'

Potter's eyes narrowed in something like annoyance, and Draco just _knew_.

'Do you mean to tell me Potter, that you sent a magical memo to the Auror Department because you require assistance in unsticking your broom from your _crotch_?'

Potter grumbled under his breath and casted a stinging hex, which missed. Not that Draco would have noticed really, because as of then he was in a spasmodic fit of laughter, all sporadic twitching and breathless gasps. He wasn't even aware he could laugh that much, trust Potter to bring out the impossible in him. With that thought, he gave a last snort before attempting some semblance of professionalism in the face of Potter's pouty, sullen one.

'Wa-wait, oh God sorry, its just. Wow. Whew. Okay. Right. Okay. Well, if its a sticking charm to your pants then you _do_ know you could just take the pants out right? Unless you were not wearing any pants when you were handling the broom, which would mean that the stuck broom isn't the only issue I see here Potter you disgusting sod!'

'Oh shut up! The sticking charm went... everywhere! I was wearing my work shorts. So-so the shorts itself got stuck to, well, me,'

'So, the broom got stuck to your shorts. And your shorts got stuck to you. Gods. I assume this was during one of your experiments?'

Potter had went into the Quidditch sector alright, but not in the way everyone expected. Far from a star player, he worked behind the scenes, developing competition race brooms.

'Yeah, I was trying out a new safety mechanism! You know, I wanted the sticking charm to automatically activate itself when the broom gets slanted beyond a certain angle, like, for sharp falls and stuff. Thus, you know, the sticking charm! And I tried the reversal spell _detashio _but it didn't work!'

'Potter stop the squealing please, my ears are still recovering from your crazy Potions book,'

'Her name's Maggie,'

Draco gave Potter a withering look before, with a flick, vanishing the mess of assorted things Potter was buried in.

'Where did you vanish them to?'

'Your attic,'

'I don't _have_ an attic Malfoy!'

'Oh. Then. We'll get to that later,'

Draco dismissed the rest of Potter's complains disinterestedly. He could see the whole picture now, and _that_ was much more interesting. The muscled legs in a wide vee, the broom oh-so-ridiculously _there_, and Potter shifting uncomfortably as he rested his weight on his palms, _Draco could see the veins strain down his forearms_, as he held his arse up a bit because by God, it hurt dragon bollocks sitting on those brooms for too long a time.

'Potter,'

'What,'

'Charms on magical objects can't be reversed, idiot,'

'I tried reversing the charm on my shorts-'

'Ah, ah. The effect of a _single_ charm on several objects that happen to _include_ any magical objects can't be reversed,'

'Really,'

'_Really_,'

'Then-'

'It wears off, how long it takes depends on how strong the charm was, and considering that even you got dragged along for the ride, this will take awhile,'

'Bollocks,'

'Mmhmm,'

'I guess you can go then. I mean, I'll just wait it out by my-'

'Can't. I'm supposed to stay on location until the _situation is cleared_. Broom still stuck, then no Potter, unfortunately, its against my work clause to leave,'

'So you'll be here,'

'Yup. Till you get your broom off your crotch,'

'And that could be a long time,'

'Yes Potter,'

The reality of the situation, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, each who could easily drive the other up the wall, stuck in the same house for an indeterminately long time, hit the two at the about the same time. _Oh the torture_, Draco moaned under his breath. It was _not_ his day.

'Malfoy, I think we're gonna need alcohol. A lot of it,'

Draco couldn't agree more.

_Later, night time:_

'Potter, stop licking me,'

'Harry,'

'Fine. Harry, stop licking me,'

'You're no fun,'

'And you're stuck to your broom, so shut up,'

The licking did not stop. In fact, it progressed beyond the ear, down his jaw, itchingly close to his lips, and he could feel the tip of Potter's tongue just... there, at the corner of his lips, licking. Draco, who was very, very sober(despite his agreement, he hadn't wanted to drink on the job) felt every swipe of Potter's, well, Harry's tongue, the coolness of it and the not unpleasant smell of Firewhiskey, burn his skin down to his bones. Harry was now settled quite comfortably on a cushion that they found, so he no longer had to hold himself up. His hands found new occupations rather quickly, roaming about Draco's face, his neck, his back, then the questing fingers were back on Draco's lips, trying to get them apart and when Draco nipped them lightly with his teeth, Harry would moan into Draco's hair so deliciously that Draco wanted to bite and lick and keep those fingers in his mouth forever so that he could hear that sound again and again. The thought was so disturbing Draco felt like he needed to speak out in this heady haze of lust.

'Harry, if you go any further, this is gonna get really really weird,'

'Mm good,'

'No Potter. Harry. Look. I'm an Auror here-'

'Yes Auror Draco?'

Draco felt himself harden at that. Who knew that Potter would be so-

'Have I been bad Auror Draco?'

Draco swung himself around and knelt in front of Harry, holding Harry's face in his hands. Harry looked strangely satisfied as he leaned his body forward, his eyes shiny and bright, the hands soft on Draco's thighs. Draco already felt like he could combust if he kept staring at Harry like that. It was impossibly hot, new and exciting, Harry all wanting, breathy against him.

'Gods, Harry,'

'Should I be _punished_?'

Draco's eyes rolled to the back of his head as the voice curled into a husky chuckle, the hands bringing him closer and closer to bliss.

_The following morning:_

Draco woke up with a curt note from Kingsley that demanded he notify them that he was still alive, Harry's head on his chest, the broom at their feet and a palpable sense of surrealism.

If he recalled, he had, in essence, went over to the one and only Harry Potter's house, confronted an issue of a stuck broom, made out with the Saviour while he was stuck to said broom, then, as it detached itself from the man, proceeded to have sex with him. At least 2 times. Draco was quite sure it had been one of the weirdest days of his eventful life. Nothing, it seemed, could ever be normal with this strange, strange specimen of a man that is Harry Potter when it came to a certain Draco Malfoy. _It is the law of the universe, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy,_ Draco mused, awed, as Kingsley's owl pecked his toes to get him to reply to the note.

Everything came to Draco, in that moment, in startling clarity.

'Potter! Wake up you lazy sod! Up!'

'What,'

'We should go out,'

'Oh?'

'Mm. Like with each other,'

Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's lips and rolled his eyes, before resting his head back on Draco's chest, going back to sleep and snoring softly. Draco smile triumphantly. _Whoop whoop,_ he cheered in his head. Nothing could be bigger than this, it was awesome, bloody fantastic, nothing could interrupt-

'_Ouch_! Alright you stupid pigeon! Jeez, I'll reply! I'll reply!'

Well, aside from ill tempered owls perhaps.


End file.
